


Dragon of Fire and the Ice Prince

by krystalmaze



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-03-18 20:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3583638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krystalmaze/pseuds/krystalmaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kimiko is cross-dressing. Her name as a boy is Kiiko, Chase is starting to like Kiiko and is wondering if he’s gay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wild Child

**Author's Note:**

> Quick notes about characterization:  
> Here Chase sees Guan and Fung are mentors and obviously they did not start out on the same level as him.  
> I really think Chase's turn to darkness in the show was because he felt inadequate (compared to Guan) and chose the dark side to gain an advantage.  
> Here they're already older than him and he sees their strength as something they gained with time and hopes to be like them.  
> Here Kimiko is also not as fiery tempered as she is in the show because growing up as a foster kid taught her to control her temper better. She keeps getting in trouble but she can get out of it instead of making it worse by being angry.

Kimiko sits in a chair mindlessly playing with the alcohol in front of her. She smiles sweetly at every guy who gets up the nerve to ask her to the dance floor before turning them down flat.

As one of them hovers over her she makes eye contact with the girl seated next to her, rolling her eyes as the boy gets flustered and angry about being so deliberately ignored.

She pushes past him, leather and metal thigh-highs making delicate clinking noises against the glass floors. The lights swivel, coating the club in a myriad of colors. She descends the stairs her hips swaying slightly to the rhythm of the music. She’s on the ground floor when the boy from before comes over to her, face still red and angrily demanding she dance with him.

She smiles and leans against the wall, crossing one arm against her waist while the other points to the ceiling. The boy confusedly looks up to where her finger points, looking down a moment later. He steps forward then stops staring intently at her hand, which is now on fire. He stumbles back, his hand outstretched as if to push her back. He falls and crawls away, disappearing behind a curtain of legs.

She all but skips onto the dance floor. The small chains crisscrossing her leather bustier glitter with every move. Her jewelry jingles as she begins to dance. Her hair is a slick fountain trailing behind her and her pants cling to her body as she performs some rather athletic stunts.

Unfortunately just when life at the club is finally heating up, the lights go out, the music stops, and the sounds of sirens break the sudden silence.

Kimiko immediately heads for the bathrooms, not above singeing people who’re in her way.

Dull yellow light streams through the tiny window in the bathroom. she flips it open pulling it off its hinges when it only opens half way. It shatters when she drops it onto the floor. By now there’s someone shouting through the megaphone and people screaming as the “police” have probably started beating people.

She growls when she sees bars on the other side of the door. Immediately she grabs the bars then braces her feet against the sink. She pushes the bars outwards, they bend then pop out of the brick, she falls on the window seam, her ribs taking the brunt of the hit.

Somewhere behind her there’s footsteps but she doesn’t stop to look, simply scrambling out of the window and running out into the dark streets of Tokyo.

* * *

 

The sky’s edges are tinted with pink by the time she gets to where she lives. The building gleams on the outside, but inside, it’s falling apart, the walls are painted lousily, the numbers on many doors are scratched out. The carpets smell of smoke and are so worn down and threadbare you can see the cement underneath them. There’s always people coming and going at odd hours and occasionally the hot water goes out.

She stands before her apartment pulling her keys out of a special compartment in her boots. Before she can even insert the first one, the door opens and someone is dragging her in. Her foster mother is putting on _the show_. Which can only mean there’s an inspector here. She groans as her foster mother blubbers all over her, hugging her too tightly, while discretely and viscously digging her manicured nails into Kimiko’s body.

Her sister Keiko is sitting on a white overstuffed couch, holding an equally pristine white cat. There’s two reasons their apartment is better put together than their neighbor’s. One is that their foster mother works as a designer and she _brings_ work home with her. Secondly she puts on a good show for their usual inspector, Daisuke Sato. She goes on and on about how she’d made a home out of nothing, how she sacrificed so much for both her and her sister. Then she’d be an incorrigible flirt, hanging onto him, giggling and plying him with her finest saké. Eventually her pretty form and face combined with alcohol would work its magic. Mr. Inspector would be cherry red in the face with a fools grin.

That charade guaranteed their foster mother would be given extra money courtesy of Mr. Inspector. Kimiko always wondered where _he_ got it from.

But if he had actually done his job instead of sitting and being coddled, he’d have found their fridge empty except for bottles of wine, beer cans and the occasional empty takeout box. Their cupboards filled with home remodeling supplies, no medicine or first aid anywhere, just makeup, jewelry and clothes, 99 percent of it belonging to their foster mother. Anything that was theirs, not their foster mother’s was usually stolen.

Case in point the cat food and litter box, bought and stolen respectively, by Kimiko herself, after Kaiko had found that darling stray sniffing around a dumpster.

Despite all her faults, being with foster mother was better than being in a group home.

Kimiko had a job, so did Keiko, they’d both lied about their age but it meant they had money. Their foster mother had allowed it as long as part of their wages went to her.

Keiko’s cat was allowed in the home because they’d blackmailed their foster mother into allowing them to keep it.

And they both had the freedom to come and go as they wished, including to school.

Unfortunately the woman sitting on the couch, clipboard in hand, hair in a bun, and stern expression on her face was not Mr. Inspector.

“Kimiko Yoshimura I presume?”

“Yes.” Kimiko responds cautiously.

The woman looks her up and down, her eyes lingering on the stylish cuts in her top that exposed plenty of skin. “Where were you at five in the morning?”

“I was at the pharmacy, dropping off a prescription for my dear _mother_.”

“Uh-huh. Ms. Yoshimura, I’m Ms. Yamamoto, and unfortunately for you I know you’re lying. This morning at around three you were spotted on camera at club Unit. You were seen consuming alcohol, wearing inappropriate garments for a girl your age and out past the curfew allowed for minors. This incident combined with the fact that you have consistently missed school for the past year means the state does not find your current legal guardian to be a fit guardian. You are to be removed from her care as is your sister. Both of you will be moved to a group home until there is another suitable foster family available; you are adopted; or you are no longer of age to be cared for by the government. I will be overseeing your removal. Please prepare your things.”

* * *

 

Kimiko holds her sister close stroking her hair, her heart heavy with every little sniff Keiko gave out. An empty cat carrier sits at their feet. Each of them had scratches and minor bruises; Kimiko’s hair was lopped off on one side. To say their foster mother had taken the news badly was putting it mildly.

Ms. Yamamoto had managed to subdue their foster mother, calmly telling them to pack their things from her spot on the floor. She hadn’t allowed them to take Keiko’s cat Yuki.

Vengeful, Kimiko had made sure to stuff the most expensive of her foster mother’s jewelry in a secret compartment of her trunk.

Eventually they arrived at a large grey building that looked more like an office space than a residential area.

“Wait here.” Ms Yamamoto pointed towards the straight backed chairs in front of a desk.

Kimiko dozes on the uncomfortable chairs while Keiko sits and stares at her feet. Several hours later, Ms. Yamamoto had returned, a black folder in her arms and a strange little man following after her.

She blinks her mind placing the short happy faced man. It was Toshiro Tohomiko. Game tycoon, billionaire, inventor and if her ears weren’t deceiving her, the man who wanted to become their adoptive father. Somewhere in the back of her mind she’s suspicious of their motives, but the more practical part desperately wants to avoid being sent to a group home.

Papers are pressed into their hands and Kimiko eagerly signs them. Keiko is more wary.

“Why are you doing this?”

Mr. Tohomiko looks uncomfortable for a second then responds, tiredly, “We’ve been looking for the Dragon of Fire for almost 16 years.”

* * *

 

Somewhere in East China, in a grandiose house Kimiko examines her new haircut; shaggy, purple tipped, and ending at her shoulders. Her makeup is experimental and asymmetrical, making her look fierce. Next to her Keiko is much happier, cooing over her fluffy cat. Thankfully their foster mother had not harmed Yuki opting to dump her outside along with her litter box and food.

Kimiko had used her newfound position of ‘Dragon of Fire’ in order to negotiate their ‘adoption.’ Leaving plenty of loopholes that worked in their favor. One of which was marching Ms. Yamamoto and Mr. Tohomiko right back to their old house in order to obtain her sister’s cat. They’d found the poor kitten pawing at the door, mewing pitifully. Which had earned the two adults a severe reprimand from Kimiko.

Secondly, Kimiko had demanded there be no fanfare around the adoption. She’d wanted them to remain as anonymous as was possible, keeping it between the least amount of people as they could. As far as she had seen, they’d kept their word. While there was a blurb on every newspaper about the Tohomiko adoption, their names, ages, gender, or even pictures, weren’t disclosed.

The only non negotiable was where they would go to school. Mr. Tohomiko had insisted on shipping them off to China, to study at the Xiaolin Academy.

Despite Kimiko’s grumbling, she’d dutifully studied the language, and by dutifully she meant she allowed Keiko to read her the most useful words and phrases. Keiko of course was stressing too much, overachiever that she was; she kept trying to learn the entire language in just a few weeks.

One perk Kimiko had negotiated in order to sweeten the sour ‘living-in-China’ bit was a generous expense account. Which Kimiko was currently thinking about spending in its entirety to replace all of the school uniforms at her new high school. Or maybe to just bribe someone into letting her get rid of uniforms all together.

The skirt was so short, a well placed wind would expose her panties to the world. Her shoes felt as if they would slip off if she so much as speed walked and her thigh high socks continued to slide down her legs unless she used a garter or glue on them. The blouse and jacket clearly designed by male perverts hoping to see plenty of cleavage. She wondered if they purposefully designed them one size to small, so that the girls would have to squeeze themselves in and not breathe for fear of bursting out of their clothes. The colors are just garish, they clash with her makeup.

Spur of the moment Kimiko yanks an emergency outfit off the hanger and dives into the bathroom.

Keiko looks up from where she’s playing with Yuki. She already has her book bag ready and instead of thigh highs she’d put on thick white leggings. “You know it’s really not that bad Kimi. I could lend you some leggings if you’d like.”

Kimiko comes out, uniform neatly folded and ready to be sent back to the hell it came from. She’s wearing green black striped pants, and a loose hoodie with some animal skull designs embedded on it.

Keiko grimaces, “You’re going to be expelled if you wear that to school. Not to mention, green and purple?”

Kimiko shrugs as she picks out a purple and green book bag. “It worked for the Joker.” She stuffs the atrocious uniform into her bag. “Besides I’m just going to exchange it.”

“You should drive while I look up the address, then I’ll take it over to clothes place and come right back.”

“Uh isn’t Ms. Yamamoto supposed to be taking us?” Keiko asks dubiously.

“ _Technically_ yes, but that’s why we’re climbing out the window.”

* * *

 

Kimiko looks around, noticing the buildings have gotten smaller and the air has gotten foggier. The place that makes their uniforms was located within the poorer, more industrialized part of town. She’d never actually learned the name of it, preferring to just follow the direction on her phone.

She steps out making sure to lock the car. She rushes into the small building where the package said it came from. Once inside she was surprised to find it looked like a tailor’s shop, albeit with less variety and a little more cramped. One of the five people currently at a sewing machine stands up. She has a polite but detached look on her face. Kimiko’s sure she can’t be much older than she is.

The girl says something in Chinese, Kimiko blinks, it certainly wasn’t something she’d learned.

Kimiko hurriedly shows the girl her packaged uniform, pointing at the Xiaolin Academy symbol and nodding, then opening it and shaking her head. The girl gives her the once over before comprehension spreads over her face. She scurries over to her counter, pulling out jackets and slacks, in red, white, or black. She then begins to pull out vests and dress shirts, all available in the three aforementioned colors. The vests have dragons subtly embroidered on them. Also available with these uniforms are silver or gold cufflinks, each sporting the Xiaolin Academy symbol. Kimiko buys one of each.

* * *

 

Kimiko preformed a miracle of human aerobics by simultaneously; color coding; driving without causing an accident; and stripping off her old clothes and putting on a new uniform. Red jacket and slacks, combined with a white shirt and a black vest. She’d chosen the gold cufflinks to complete the effect. Though she was mournful her book bag and hair didn’t match her clothes.

She managed to pull into the school just before the gates close behind her although she did hear a distinctive screeching.

Keiko is waiting for her by the front doors.

Kimiko sprints out of the parked car. Her sister does not look amused by the new uniform. She opens her mouth but is interrupted by a man shouting, “Tohomiko, you’re late!” He struts over to them, pen writing furiously over a clipboard. His bald head glistens. His face seems to be stuck permanently on scowl. The suit he’s wearing looks like a bigger, orange version of her own.

Kimiko does her best guilty puppy look. It would work if he was looking at her but his eyes are on his clipboard. “Name!”

“Keiko Tohomiko.”

“Not you. Your brother.” He jabs his pen in her direction.

“Kiiko Tohomiko.”

Keiko elbows her, a ‘what the hell are you doing’ expression on her face.  
The man frowns at both of them. He lowers his clipboard. Surprisingly he begins speaking in heavily accented Japanese “My name is Master M. Guan. It is a disappointment that the Tohomiko heirs show such little regard to their education. For being late today you will stay half an hour after school as punishment. Now both of you get to class. I’m sure you both have your schedules right?”

Kimiko nods, glancing helplessly over at Keiko. Her sister is nodding profusely, face red, and on the verge of tears. Kimiko immediately feels guilt gnawing at her belly.

“Then GO!” Master M. Guan shouts.

Both of them jump and scurry off into the building, Kimiko making sure to wrap an arm around her sister and throw a glare back at ig-Guan-a.

When they’re both out of sight Kimiko hugs her sister tightly. “I’m sorry Kei, I didn’t mean to get you in trouble too.” Her sister’s tears subside and Kimiko makes sure to give her a Kleenex to wipe away the smeared makeup and snot.

Keiko just sighs, looking very weary, before handing over Kimiko’s schedule. “I knew you didn’t have one.” Kimiko looks sheepish.

“Here take my eyeliner, you need it.”

“Thanks. Get to class.” Keiko begins to walk off, then stops and turns to look at Kimiko, “Should I even ask about Kiiko?”

Kimiko rubs the back of her neck and shrugs, “he thought I was your brother.”

Keiko exhales, “This won’t end well.”

Kimiko runs over to Keiko giving her one quick hug before running off to her own class. “I’ll make it up to you!” She shouts over her shoulder.

* * *

 

Looking at her schedule then at the numbers and foreign letters on the walls Kimiko wonders how she was ever going to make it to class. Too busy stewing over her schedule and the fact that she should have studied the Chinese language a bit more Kimiko suddenly finds herself on the floor. “Watch where you’re going!” she and the person she bumped into, yell simultaneously, albeit in two different languages, she in Japanese, the other in Chinese.

Kimiko looks up, suddenly star struck by the boy she bumped into. He’s kinda cute, with his large brilliant green eyes, tanned skin and stylishly messy brown hair. His black jacket is open, he’s wearing no vest and a shirt un-tucked from his pants. Glancing at his arms Kimiko notices there’s no cuff links or buttons, letting the material split and reveal his forearms.

Kimiko picks herself off the floor and begins collecting all her scattered items.

He picks up one of her lip-liners, dangling it between two fingers, and sneering at her. He’s already losing his charm. “What’s this for?” Kimiko snatches it back, annoyed, and tries to stand up. He grabs her face, forcing her to look at him.“You know already got enough shit on you face to pass for a girl.”

Now seething Kimiko knocks his hand away and shoves him. He stumbles, his back hitting the wall with a satisfying thud. Kimiko doesn’t wait for him to find his bearings, she takes off her bag, throws it aside and lays a good punch on his face. A second later she knees him in the stomach. He sinks down to the floor clutching his stomach with one hand, the other hits her right in the knee. She hops on one leg. He grabs the other one and yanks, effectively knocking her over.

(Un)fortunately a teacher hears the commotion. She notices them both on the floor clutching body parts and orders on of her students to call Master M. Guan. When he arrives he immediately picks them up by the scruff of their clothes standing them upright and ordering them to march. Kimiko remembers to grab her bag off the floor.

Upon reaching an office the Iguana sits them down. “Mr. Tohomiko, Mr. Pedrosa you will now both stay after school for 90 minutes every day this week. You will also have to write an essay on proper school conduct and a better way to resolve your differences, due at the end of the week.” He’d said it twice, once in Japanese and once in Chinese.

Kimiko snickered a bit when she’d heard the Iguana him give Pedrosa an extra essay on proper school attire.

“I will now personally escort you to your classes.”

After dropping off Pedrosa where he was supposed to be. The Iguana takes her aside, he speaks in the clearest Japanese she’s heard him speak so far. “Your behavior today is disappointing Dragon of Fire. We expected so much more from someone who wields such power. If you do not progress beyond petty fighting and your own self indulgence you will end up like the Heylin, squandering their gifts and causing only misery to those around them.”

Kimiko’s eyes narrow. “I notice you didn’t give Pedrosa the same speech.”

He suddenly looks a lot less grumpy and a lot more tired. “I have in the past. I fear he doesn’t listen.”

They make it to her class in silence.

* * *

 

Somewhere in between the six classes, lunch, and her afternoon punishment Kimiko had managed to scribble out a rough draft for her essay. She was glad she had when she noticed the assignments her teachers had given her, each would take an hour apiece to finish.

The parts of her body Pedrosa had hit, still ached. In addition to those tender areas, her arms hurt from her afternoon detention, being forced to mop up the floors in the cafeteria and hallways. She wasn’t sure how big Xiaolin Academy was, but it felt as if she’d barely mopped up anything in her 90 minutes of torture. A semi bright spot was when she’d had a chance for revenge against Pedrosa. He’d had his back turned to her and was unknowing of her presence. The idea to smash her dirty mop at the back of his head had been so tempting. Sadly she’d restrained herself, just barely.

Zombie like she heads for the bus stop, additional punishment for starting a fight, stealing the car, and being late, was that she had to take the bus today.

It starts to rain the second she steps a foot out the door.

Feeling like the world’s chew toy, she brings her book bag up to shield her head, running towards the somewhat sheltered bus stop.

She crashes against something rather like a brick wall. Half expecting Pedrosa again, from her spot on the floor she squints up and sees a man that is the anti-Pedrosa. He’s pale, neatly put together, and he hadn’t so much as moved an inch when she barreled into him. His uniform is black, pressed, and full of clean lines; nothing like the hot mess that was Pedrosa. His long hair is pulled back into a slick ponytail. His eyes are narrow and golden in color, gleaming with a supernatural aura.

He steps over her prone form, with an expression that clearly states she’s just some rubbish he doesn’t wanna step in.

“Hey Mr. Ice Prince do you have a popsicle up your butt, or, am I just special enough to receive that look.”

The man stops on the way to his car, he turns his cool gaze at her. She sees him scan her, a slight twitch in his mouth before he turns around and continues walking.

Not sure what compelled her to do it, Kimiko picks up a glob of mud and chucks it at his retreating back. She’s running off in the other direction when she hears it splat.

Had she looked back she would have seen him easily dodge it.


	2. Party Crashers

The internet provides all. While Keiko struggles with books Kimiko simply looks up the answers. She finds a common interpretation for her literature homework and it only takes as long as it takes for her to type it up in her own words. Math is just practice. Somewhere through science Kimiko decides it’s time for a change. She enters the bathroom, takes out her dye removal and gets started. An hour later the tips in her hair go from purple to gold. She brings her hair up in a twisted braid

Another hour on the sewing machine she manages to come up with a new dress to match her new golden streaks. The top is a corset, in black and gold stripes of alternating thickness. The short Victorian skirt matched with it has layers of yellow, orange, gold. The black petticoat underneath helping make it all poofier.

Only a thin golden choker with a pearl adorns her neck. Her shoulders are left bare. She finishes it off with knee high leather boots sprinkled in gold glitter.

Keiko looks mortified. “You _can’t_ be serious.”

Kimiko looks herself up and down in the mirror. “You’re right I need _this_.” She pins a small black hat to her hair, unfurling the thick black veil over the top half of her face. It conceals her eyes well, leaving her dark red lips exposed.

“That’s not what I meant Kimiko.”

“Don’t worry you can come too.” Kimiko holds up one of her old dresses. Its dark velvet teal with gold birdcages patterned on the hem of the skirt and gold ribbons tied all over the bodice.

“And where exactly are we supposed to be going?”

“This fancy gala,” Kimiko points at her laptop screen. “And maybe find a good club to hang out in afterwards.” She adds thoughtfully.

Keiko examines the webpage then sighs. “While we do technically have an invitation, you’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

Kimiko points towards her hat. “That’s why I’m concealing my identity and we’re going as party crashers.”  
Keiko groans. “This won’t end well.”

“Quit being so nervous.”

* * *

 

She and Keiko step into the marbled room with arched windows and ceilings. There’s banners everywhere and a long table off to one side laden with food. On the other there’s a scattering of small tables, leaving the center as the dance floor.

Kimiko finds a table for them, quickly depositing her bag on it and rushing over to the other side to take Keiko’s white faux fur coat from her.

Her sister looks unsure about leaving their items behind but Kimiko impatiently drags her away from their table. The next song has just started and Kimiko is eager to dance. They each place on hand on each other’s shoulder and the other at the waist. As the next song begins they take off, cutting through the crowd of people, more spinning than actual dancing, but it makes Keiko laugh.

Their dresses flair out as they ‘waltz’ spinning and dipping each other in turn, kicking they legs up occasionally. Kimiko even deliberates trying some of her break dancing moves in here but dismisses it. Her dress wasn’t really made for it.

Several songs later, Keiko plops down at their table, fancy looking jello in one hand, and using the other hand to fan herself. “That’s it, I’m tired, you go find someone else to wear out.”

Kimiko pouts, and gives up her quest to drag her sister back to the dance floor. Instead she takes up another quest, finding another dance partner.

While plenty of people had noticed the crazy dance the two girls had put on, only two other people had continued to watch them. One was the party’s host, Chase Young.

A cold glass in hand, sitting cross legged at a table in the shadows, he’d been utterly bored out of his mind when he’d spotted the commotion they caused. Laughing loudly, moving around the floor like two spinning tops in their utterly outlandish clothing. Having such rogues around wasn’t ideal for business but it gave him something to watch. So far they weren’t doing much damage. By that of course he meant no one had left his party because of them. He would ensure those two, whoever they were, wouldn’t be invited to his next party.

He breaks his semi-interested stare when he’s informed that Wuya Sibini has arrived. Draining the cup he stands as his business partner seats herself across from him. Her calculating green eyes look around; taking in the decorations, the people at his party—Chase knows she sees the two girls when her nose wrinkles and her lips curl scornfully—before finally setting on Chase himself. “Why are we sitting in a dark little corner?” She stares hard at him, arms crossing over her chest and full red lips still pulled into a grimace.

Chase merely brings out some reports regarding both of their companies.

“Chase I won’t do damn thing until you answer me.”

Chase raises an eyebrow before gesturing towards his head and saying in a flat tone “Headache.”

Her grimace turns into a pout but she dutifully brings out her pen and begins going over the paperwork.

Like other times they’ve worked together she brings up the idea of a marriage-merger. Chase endures and once again asks himself why he hasn’t just agreed to it. He and Wuya spent plenty of time together at business functions such as these. The dealings between their companies was highly profitable and mutually beneficial.

Chase looks the vixen up and down. She’s a voluptuous woman with dark brown skin, vibrant red hair and piercing green eyes. She was always dressed in a manner that reflected her social status and had an air about her that frightened whoever dared to cross her. No, that wasn’t the problem. While he respected her ingenuity for commerce, and admired her standing, there was little else there. He just felt no attraction to Wuya, despite her exotic beauty and vicious intelligence.

The only future he saw with her was a repeat of his childhood. Two calculating parents whose only form of commonality was the company they’d built. He hadn’t even been five years old when he saw their bitter divorce. Everything from money, to the company, to Chase himself had been their battleground. He’d spent more time in courts than in school. He’d known laws and lawyers better than people of his own age. When it was over their former dominating company was downsized, split between them, and on the verge of bankruptcy.

Chase remembered the day his father had been awarded full custody with near perfect clarity. After the ruling he’d been immediately packed away and sent to China, to Master Fung. His mother had never bothered to contact him.

His father had spent years rebuilding his company. Chase remembered seeing him only a few times out of the year. After Master Fung had found out Chase had the powers of a Xiaolin Dragon he’d seen his father even less.

Then there was the will. When his father died, the will he left outlined the life _he_ intended Chase to live. A repeat of his own; married by 21, with an heir by 25, no life outside of Young Industries.

Chase had nearly given up his claim to the company the very day the will was read to him.

Being a Xiaolin Dragon was something that was entirely his. He’d trained his mind and body through rigorous martial arts. His power over the elements grew steadily. He’d be damned if his father took that away from him.

It had been Master Fung who’d talked him down. He’d told him to wait until the deadline to make up his mind. Until then everything operated as it had before, with Chase steadily receiving more responsibility in Young Industries.

He was 17 now. He had four years to make a decision. Wuya was a constant reminder of that deadline.

He mentally sighs. Chase flatly states, “Sibini, I do not wish to discuss this right now.”

Wuya’s face goes back into the grimace. He’s unsure if she hated it when he rebuffs her or when he refers to her by her last name. Since he usually does both at the same time it’s hard to tell.

Wuya opens her mouth, no doubt about to start an argument, when they’re distracted from their conversation. There’s a strange silence permeating the usually gossipy invitees. Many of his guests have stilled. The reason is immediately apparent. One of the girls from before has found a new partner and is careening around the dance floor, making long oblong shapes around other couples and spinning madly so her already short skirt, rises dangerously high.

Already tired of her antics Chase stands and marches over to where she’s dancing. He’s pleased to see the crowd part for him and the terror on her partner’s face. She is happily oblivious to his presence until she crashes into him, propelling both of them onto the floor. Her partner had let go of her arm as she twirled out away from him.

“Oh, hi, sorry.” She squeaks into his chest. She nervously brushes off his jacket before standing, careful not to step on him. He rapidly jerks his head up, smacking it painfully on the ground as he tries to avoid looking up her skirt. He grunts in pain and closes his eyes.

He feels her immediately kneel back down on top of him, yelling, “Someone get some ice.”

A second later she’s gently lifting his head up and pillowing it with something cold and _gooey_ … Chase groans, at least it felt better on his head than the floor.

Finally daring to open his eyes he finds himself star struck. The girl is so pale she almost glows, her dark lipstick and attire making such a pleasing contrast. The veil covering the top half of her face only shows the feint impression of a face beneath it.

“This isn’t a masked ball.” Chase manages to say breathlessly.

She smiles. “I’m horribly scarred.” She raises a hand to her lips. “Shhhhhh.”

He responds by nodding his head as best as he can. “Of course.”

Still smiling she slides off of him first then stands up.

He watches her go from his spot on the floor.

* * *

 

_He observes from his favorite position, hiding in plain sight. Part of him had wanted to dismiss them. They were unimportant, well they were, but he recognizes_ her _. Mousy little thing. Scared and too timid to look past her own shadow. And when she managed to, every part of her_ quivered _. Just who had he described? The mother or the daughter?_

_He watches. He ponders._

_It was a possibility…_

_Oh how he did hate it when there were survivors._

* * *

 

Kimiko walks through the deserted streets, eyes entirely on her phone, trying to find a club that opened _this_ early. Keiko is next to her, fidgeting. Several blocks later they arrive at their car. She’s finally found a club that looked interesting.

Keiko isn’t interested. “No way, you and I are going home right now!” Keiko crosses her arms, and is in determined-mom-mode, as Kimiko likes to call it. Kimiko relents. Inside her mind she’s calculating the time it would take her to drop Keiko off and go to the club. She finds she should get there long after the club has opened. Her math cannot be disputed.

The ride home is quiet as Kimiko taps away on her phone, half-interestedly playing games.

“So why did you have to stay longer than I did during detention?”

Kimiko freezes and starts subconsciously sinking low into her seat. It isn’t until a few seconds have passed and her game plays the Game Over music that Kimiko realizes they’re taking the _long_ way home.

“Uhh- I kinda may have started a fight.”

Keiko looks unsurprised, just so very tired. “I see.”

They pull up to their street. Keiko parks the car and pulls the keys out of the ignition then stares at the wheel. They sit in the darkness. Keiko turns to look at her. “Would you mind not getting into so much trouble Kimiko? It’s so scary, you have no idea, when Ms. Yamamoto came to the apartment that night I thought… it was to tell us you were dead.”

Something inside of Kimiko bristles at her sister’s words another part feels extremely guilty. She stuck between two waging emotions.

“I know it’s in your nature. It’s your element. Fire has burn brightly but just make sure you don’t burn out too fast.” She reaches out to hug her. Kimiko immediately tackle hugs her, still angry and guilty but she responds, “I’ll try.”

Kimiko still remembers their conversation as she sneaks out of the Tohomiko house. She’s stewing as she speeds away, borderline breaking traffic laws. While she hated making her sister worry it was a price she’d paid to get both of them ahead in life. Kimiko scoffs, if it wasn’t for _her_ recklessness, Ms. Yamamoto wouldn’t even have noticed them and they wouldn’t be in the cushy position they were now.

As she walks to the club she wonders how many of her fights could have been avoided, how many of them could have turned out differently. She shakes her head. Those were over; she’d do what she promised and try harder in the future.

Now it was time to dance.


	3. Fire Fluffs and Enemies

Kimiko drags herself into the bathroom by morning. Her body aches under the hot spray of the shower. When her alarm rings she reluctantly gets out and starts getting ready for a new school day.

Achy but satisfied Kimiko chooses her black uniform today, hoping her dark eye shadow (with flecks of gold) and eyeliner would help conceal the dark bags under her eyes.

She wears no lipstick and ties her hair up into a messy ponytail.

Downstairs she munches on some toast. When Keiko comes down for breakfast she freezes. “You went to that club didn’t you?”

“Keiko.” Kimiko whines

“Kimiko! You said you’d stop trying to get in trouble.” Keiko’s voice is stern.

“I didn’t. There was no trouble. I went, I danced, I came back. I-I didn’t even drink.”

“Right, but you spent most of the night at that club. I know you don’t get up _this_ early.” Keiko is whisking some eggs furiously. “And if you do, you are _so_ not ready by now.” She starts chopping fruit, slamming the knife down harder than necessary.

“Kei-Kei, I’ll be fine. Look coffee, I’ll drink some coffee, and I’ll be fine.”

Their conversation is ended by Yamamoto’s arrival.

Of course she’s dozing by 3rd period. Her pencil poised over the paper while she drools into her textbook.

The bell rings and she shuffles over to her next class, hoping to sleep.

The place she’s in looks more like a training dojo than a gymnasium although it’s almost as large. The place smells of incense. The sounds of the school vanish as she closes the heavy wooden door.

She steps through another pair of doors, wondering what she was meant to do in this class. The place she steps into is filled with scrolls, all neatly arranged and free of dust. As she moves to pick up one, a voice cries out “Not one step more Mister. I just organized everything.”

Kimiko looks around. “Who said that?”

A serpent slithers up the scroll case. It has red tufts of hair and two arm-like appendages.

“Dojo Kanojo Cho, Dragon Guardian of the Xiaolin Scrolls.” He puffs himself up.

Kimiko looks him up and down; he was a small dragon, looking more like a mutated gecko. She mentally shrugs, probably not good to bring it up. “Oh. So are you going to be my teacher? Will I have to read some of these?” she’s itching to know exactly what was in them.

“Oh no no no no no. I’m not your teacher. But you might have to read some of these.” Dojo moves over to another shelf muttering to himself. He comes back up with a scroll. “Here you go. I know for a fact you’ll need this is one. Be careful, it’s an old one.”

Gingerly Kimiko takes it from his small hands. She places it carefully in her bag. Looking around she voices a thought, “Hey have you thought about scanning some of these? If they’re so delicate it’d be nice to preserve them with technology.”

Dojo shakes his head. “Too dangerous. Can’t have these falling into the wrong hands.”

“Oh ok.” She sighs disappointedly. “I should probably get to class.” She takes a few steps backwards just as the door opens, it narrowly avoids hitting her.

“Mr. Tohomiko.”

Kimiko looks up. It’s the guy she’s bumped into twice. She wonders if he recognizes her.

“Hi… you.”

“Come. Time is short.”

Kimiko refrains from saying, so are your sentences, just barely. Instead says goodbye to Dojo. “See you around, Dojo.”

“Back at you kid. Good luck.”

The atmosphere back in the training dojo has suddenly changed. Now everything seemed tense and cold. This time she couldn’t stop herself. “Ice Prince, I named you well, you can just feel the chill in the air.”

His stoic face remains unchanged.

Kimiko stares back at him. She frowns. He had armor on now. The chest piece was green and black, with thick bronze outlines. His armor extended down his legs like a skirt cut into four pieces and ending above the knee. The sash tied around his waist was in red. He had arm and leg plates strapped to his limbs, all of them bronze with red edges. He had his normal school shoes on.

“Errr why do you have that armor on?”

“Mr. Tohomiko I am here to teach you how to control your dragon power. You have long been without proper guidance, wasting your talents on frivols pursuits. With time and discipline I hope to show you a better use for your gift.”

Kimiko nearly bursts out laughing. “I know how to control it just fine. See.” Her hand bursts into flames. “I can even do tricks.” She juggles her fire.

Mr. Ice Prince holds out his hand and suddenly her flames jump into his palm.

“Yeah nice, but I can always make more.” She fires up her hand again only to have it immediately jump into his outstretched hand.

Kimiko stares dumbfounded as he manipulates any fires she tries to start. He makes some shapes and makes them do little tricks. They move up and down his arms. Curious, Kimiko suddenly throws a blue fireball, the hottest she can make her fire. He catches it with ease. The little shapes are still on his other arm. They’re joined by the blue flame shapes.

There’s hint of a smile on his face.

She smiles. “So are you a Dragon of Fire too?”

The flames go out, Kimiko’s a little sad.

“No, I have the ability to manipulate all the elements.”

“Overachiever huh? My sister would like you.”

Mr. Ice Prince’s jaw tightens, “I’m sure…”

“So when can I start learning?”

In response Mr. Ice Prince’s face splits into a wicked grin. She takes a slight step back, her heart beating faster. She’s suddenly very nervous.

* * *

 

Kimiko wondered how a class about controlling the elements could be made boring. Chase Young—Mr. Ice Prince’s given name— had found a way. Instead of actually doing anything with their elements Kimiko’s forced to do pushups, balancing acts, stretches; basically what you’re first forced to do in any normal gym class.

When Kimiko brings up this point, Ice Prince responds, “You must first master your mind and body. Then you can start mastering the supernatural.”

As far as she’s concerned, she’s already _mastered_ her body. She wiggles on her seat cushion, trying to find a comfortable position for her achy butt. Meditation was not her thing. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing by just sitting and not thinking.

“Control your breathing Tohomiko.”

Kimiko refrains from sighing.

“Stand up.”

She obliges, standing up and facing him. “Read the section in your scroll on meditation. I expect you to be able to answer any questions I may ask. You have until next Friday”

She stifles a groan and nods.

“Dismissed.”

Kimiko quickly changes from her sparring gear to her school uniform. She comes out as Young is removing pieces of his armor and arranging them in a cabinet. He still had on loose black pants and a tight fitting turtle neck. Kimiko’s eyes are immediately drawn to the muscles on his arms and back. His shoulders are wide and powerful curving down into a toned torso and a trim waist.

From what she’d seen, Young was shorter than most guys, but he filled out a lot better than any of them. Not that you’d ever see it under the concealing uniforms the guys had to wear.

“Something interesting, Tohomiko?”

Caught leering, she coughs, “no.” then marches off in a random direction.

Skipping the lunchroom Kimiko heads for Guan’s office. She stops and listens at the door, checking to see if anyone was inside. Satisfied she slips an envelope into the slot on the door. She almost skips off to enjoy the remainder of her lunchtime when she spots Pedrosa around the corner.

Weighing her options she screws up her courage and runs after him. She catches up to him and walks in step with him. “Hey.”

He looks over at her, grunts in response and starts walking much faster.

“Fine, I was going to offer an apology but I see you rather be an asshole.” Kimiko shrugs in the same way she’d seen other guys do it. Confidently she walks away.

“Apology accepted.”

Kimiko looks over her shoulder. “Aaaaand?”

“Sorry about the,” he gestures to his face, “I just thought you were a creep like Spicer. He wears makeup, acts all girly, and I always catch him trying to look into the girls’ bathroom.”

She scowls at Pedrosa’s assumption. There was just so much wrong there. “You know this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

He nods and walks away.

She breathes a sigh of relief. Well, Keiko would be _so_ proud of her.

It’s the weekend and Kimiko wants to party. She’s reading upside-down trying to concentrate on the scroll but honestly she wants to be moving around. Her feet wiggle around on her bed tracing imaginary steps. Finally unable to bear it any longer she sets aside her scroll and marches off into her closet.

She comes out wearing baggy dark blue pants with more pockets than any one person could ever use, a black stretched retro tee hanging off her shoulders, over a blue tank top. She fashions her hair into two spiked ponytails each with varying shades of blue. The mask she puts on looks like its fusing with her skin.

She finishes up by putting on an electric blue lipstick.

Keiko doesn’t say much; too busy penciling in notes in her books. She looks up from her work when Kimiko is putting on a blue leather jacket.

“Where are you headed off to?” there’s no accusation in her tone just curiosity.

“ _That club_.” She responds.

“Oh, how is it?” Keiko was in the process of putting away her school supplies.

“Crazy fun.” Kimiko starts messing around with her hair.

“What’s it called?”

Kimiko stops fake-arranging her hair. She looks up thoughtfully. “Some unpronounceable Chinese name.”

“I’m sure its pronounceable.” Keiko scoffs daintily.

“You can come if you want.” Kimiko’s a little tired of Keiko tiptoeing―metaphorically―around the obvious.

Keiko smiles then rushes off to get her outfit together.

When they’re standing in front of the club, waiting to be let in, Keiko takes one look at the sign and giggles. After her laughter subsides she pronounces the name almost perfectly, “ _Huángdì dòu_ , it means Emperor Bean.”

Kimiko scrunches up her face “Who would name a club that!”

* * *

 

 _He gets a better look at her this time. She’s on his camera, staring straight at it with her big brown eyes. He clicks rewind and plays the footage again. He takes her in from every angle. The shape of_ her _face._ Her _lips._ Her _eyes. Even_ her _fucking nose. He rewinds, again. She’s staring at the camera, again. It’s like_ her _ghost is smiling at him, taunting him with her victory._

_The Shen Gon Wu were gone, she won._

_The scroll was gone, she won._

_Her brats lived, she won._

_Sparks fly as the monitor hits the floor._

_He quells his rage, now was not the time for anger, first vengeance._


	4. Observe

Kiiko hasn’t been improving. He doesn’t know why. Chase had found that Kiiko was athletic and full of energy. The boy was also a perpetual showoff.

He’d noticed the commotion one day, during what was supposed to be his lunch hours, half buried in his teacher’s aide duties. His red pen poised over someone’s homework. At first he’d thought a fight had broken out. Then he’d noticed the figure in the midst of it all. It was a student, doing handsprings, back flips and twisting midair, his movements always followed by a trail of fire. Even if the fire hadn’t given Kiiko away, his colorful hair was unmistakable. The boy was the only student who used such garish colors and designs.

Chase had had half a mind to run down, take Kiiko by the ear and throw him into the detention halls. But he technically wasn’t doing anything wrong. While it was frowned upon to use their powers, the school didn’t outright forbid it. As far as he had seen, Kiiko hadn’t burned anything apart from air.

During the next following days Kiiko would continue to thrive under the watchful eyes of his peers but during class, he moved as if there were lead weights attached to his limbs. Eyes dull and glassy face betraying inattentiveness.

When confronted the boy would put in enough effort to make his movements passable but it seemed as if Chase’s instructions went in one ear and immediately out the other.

_Was he so dull?_ He stops typing in grades. While he had tutored other students in areas such as math and science he’d never had to teach any other student martial arts or how to handle their Xiaolin powers. In fact, teaching was different than tutoring, instead of reinforcing existing knowledge he was more or less starting from scratch. Kiiko knew next to nothing about the Xiaolin, martial arts, or Shen Gon Wu.

Despite elemental powers being a rarity they were predictable, they showed up like clockwork, each generation having a handful of balanced elements. Kiiko had been an oversight, they’d found the rest of them early enough. Clay, Wuya, Raimundo and himself had been children when their tutelage began. While Chase had been the first of them, something that was helped along by the fact that he was related to Master Fung, the others were not far behind him. The only one man out, nearly a decade behind them, was Kiiko.

He saves his work, powering down the teacher’s computer he wonders what exactly he can do to engage Kiiko’s interest. Sighing he opens his phone and types in a reminder. He would speak with Master Fung about this, if that didn’t offer any helpful insights then perhaps Master Guan.

Finished he sets his phone in his pocket, glances out the window, turns, stops, then looks back out the window.

Kiiko is chasing after a girl. It takes very little for him to quickly overtake her, capturing her in his arms. They struggle halfheartedly then Kiiko’s hands go to the girl’s sides. It takes him a moment to realize Kiiko is tickling his sister. Evidently the boy fights dirty, but emerges victorious, holding something colorful over his head. The girl is clutching her sides and laughing.

Kiiko’s sister—Kaiko?-Koko?-Keiko? — Immediately pounces on her brother’s back, just as he brings the colorful object to his mouth. Half expecting another tussle he tenses, then relaxes when Kiiko merely shifts his hand to secure his sister on his back. Kiiko sprints back to the shelter of a tree.

Chase sighs, then heads towards his own class. The bell rings a few seconds later.

* * *

 

Master Fung is of no help. “Find what is missing in your lesson, that isn’t when your student’s passion is engaged.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Chase sighs, too used to Master Fung’s indirect answers to be angry.

“Observe, or ask.” Comes the all too simple answers.

“I doubt he’d tell me.” Chase gripes

“Then by all means observe.” Master Fung’s voice is infuriatingly calm. “And remember Chase to be a teacher is similar to being a performer, you must captivate your audience as well as impart wisdom.” Says the man who used magic tricks to get him to do his chores. He stops himself from rolling his eyes.

“Thank you for your advice Master.”

Master Guan is no better. In fact Chase is sure that Master Guan is worse.

“If you cannot handle Mr. Tohomiko then I will.” He states bluntly.

Ah yes, Master Guan’s strategy, Punish them until they learn, if it doesn’t work, punish them some more until it works. He probably should have known better than to ask.

Bag packed, strap falling across his chest, he heads towards the student parking lot where there’s a car waiting for him. He still hadn’t asked Kiiko exactly what he could do to improve his teaching.

After this week’s observations he’s all too certain the boy would say something along the lines of, “Let me go out and have fun.” He couldn’t have that, mindless self indulgence often lead promising Xiaolin warriors to the Heylin side. He’d be damned if he ever lets that happen to one of his students.

For the second time in his life, Kiiko Tohomiko makes him stop and double back.

The boy is moving fluidly, oversized brilliantly colored headphones somehow not clashing horribly with the vibrant red color he’d painted his hair that day. But it’s not Kiiko’s colorful clothes that make him stare. But rather the way Kiiko had just integrated one of the fighting styles into to some overly complex dance number. Kiiko pivots, dips, moving more gracefully than any time before. He ends with a flourish and a bow.

Chase hears clapping, and sees two girls he’d previously overlooked. One is Kiiko’s sister, the other is blonde, petite, with light blue eyes. Dyris Sereia is clapping quite enthusiastically for Kiiko. He sighs, then continues on his way. He now has an idea of what he had to do.

* * *

 

Kimiko gets to class and is met with a weird scene. The little dragon Dojo is busy fiddling around with an I-Phone and some speakers. There’s white cables strewn about in the little corner. An instruction manual all but forgotten, buried under a box and packaging supplies. Off to the side is Mr. Ice Prince, looking ever so like royalty, like those Shogun Samurai painted on scrolls and hung in museums all over Japan. The armor doesn’t help contradict the illusion.

With more fondness than exasperation Kimiko takes the electronics from Dojo, it takes her a few seconds to find the wireless settings, a few more to properly connect the speakers before finally setting the phone in its designated slot. Scrolling through the music selection she finds one she likes. Mondai Girl starts blasting through the room.

She hears Chase Young’s little hmmph right next to her ear, too close for comfort. Peering sideways she finds him leaning over her shoulder, staring intently at the machines and her hands.

“Could you just uh, back away?”

“Sorry.” He murmurs softly. He steps away, still staring at the electronics as if they were some complicated puzzle box instead of normal speakers.

“C’mon it’s just pop music, not the end of the world. Wipe that frown off your face.”

The long suffering look he sends her almost makes her burst out laughing. “I prefer silence.”

“And I prefer, Mondai Girl.” She smiles. He seems to be praying for strength.

“So what brought this on?”

“You’re doing poorly in this class.” Kimiko lets out an indignant huff but stops herself from saying anything when Chase holds his hand up. “I know you’re more than capable of mastering most of these techniques. And I was merely offering you an _incentive_.”

Kimiko looks at the speakers and back at him. “Your incentive is music?” a box of assorted _mochi_ would have been a better one.

“To begin with.” He begins pacing hands behind his back. “Other incentives can be arranged. Such as having classes outside, there can be a day where the lesson is entirely focusing on your powers” he stops and turns to look at her, his hands coming forward with a small cloth wrapped item. “perhaps this would serve as a better incentive.”

Puzzled Kimiko stares down at the golden star in Chase’s hand. Apart from the shiny ruby embedded in the center there’s nothing interesting about it. “Uh I know shopping for someone is tough but—”

There’s a hint of a smirk on Chase’s face. “Star Hanabi Fire.”                                                                                          

Suddenly a roaring jet of fire spurts out of the tiny ruby, encasing both her and Chase in a fiery dome.

Wide eyed she stares at Chase. She blinks rapidly, her brain trying to catch up to reality. Something about being surrounded by flames triggers a kind of primal terror in her. Her breathing grows ragged, her arms and legs seem to lock up.

She falls to her knees shaking. The world blinking out for a few seconds.

She comes back to the world with Chase Young kneeled before her, his palms held out in front of him in a sign of surrender. The star is on the floor far away from them.

“Ah a little warning next time.” Shakily she stands.

“Uh yes.” He agrees, standing up after her. “I’m s—”

“What was that?” Kimiko asks brusquely.

“That Mr. Tohomiko is a Shen Gon Wu.”

Kimiko raises her eyebrow. “And what exactly is a Shen Gon Wu?”

“It is a magical artifact, created by Grandmaster Dashi, over 1500 years ago. We, the Xiaolin Dragons are sworn to protect them, and keep them from those who would abuse their power.”

* * *

 

_He’s so disappointed. They’re so boring. They’re so normal. How could little widdle babes like these have escaped him? They’re too tender, too soft. It makes little sense… until he sees that Toshiro had taken them in. Of course he had. Their whore of a mother probably arranged it. They’d be almost untouchable in Japan, and even less so with that tad touched toy tinkerer. Too bad there was so much bad blood between him and Panda, he could have ended this much sooner._

_It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the opportunity but he’s suspicious. Why bring them here now?_

_Schooling’s a possibility, but Fung—the great teacher of this generation, he laughs mockingly at the title— had always been able to travel, still did, extensively in fact, and Japan was just next door._

_For now he contents himself with watching, with just knowing how they spend their days, but he doesn’t know much from before they popped up. He has some pretty good ideas, Toshiro Tohomiko is a key player here, but it’s not the same as knowing. There’s no certainty. And he isn’t going to do anything unless he’s certain, for all he knows, the brats are bulletproof._

_It’s not that farfetched, he’s almost certain they’re fireproof._


	5. A Day Out

This whole country was crazy. Its inhabitants were crazy. The schools were crazy. Even the food was crazy. Kimiko wonders what it would cost to pack up their stuff, take a red eye flight back to Tokyo, and beg their foster mother to take them back. They’d probably get a bottle of beer, or several, thrown at them for their trouble but it’s almost better than being here.

Better than magical artifacts, better than being chosen to protect the world, better than hostility and weirdoes, better than trying to learn a new language and trying to learn the beat of a new city.

Speaking of which. She was definitely lost. That’s what happens when you run without knowing where you’re running to. But what else was she supposed to do? When strange people offer you powerful magical artifacts you run, that’s what they taught her in school. Well if you replace magical artifacts with candy but the principle was the same.

She stops and looks around, too aware of the foreignness of her surroundings. She can’t read most of the words, or talk to any of the people. It makes her homesick for Tokyo. For her city of lights. For the nightlife, for the familiar alleyways and paths she’d found in the darkness. She knew that city inside out. Knew the cars and their patterns, knew the way the crowds behaved and knew equally well how she could get lost in them. She knew the train schedule by heart so she could run in just before the doors closed, a handy trick for when there were angry store owners on her tail.

She’d tried to make the best of things and in some respects they were better off, but she’d never signed up to be a guardian for some super powerful antiques.

Kimiko sighs and take out her phone, making sure to stay on the busiest parts of the streets; she starts her way home following her phone’s directions. Thank goodness for GPS. Although she never had to use it in Tokyo.

She notices the shiny car parked in front of the garage and knows that Ms. Yamamoto has already picked up Keiko and come back. Bracing herself for the inevitable confrontation she marches straight to Yamamoto’s study.

It goes as expected with Kimiko getting chewed out and grounded for a week.

Up in her room, Keiko looks her over and probably sees something that makes her motherly senses tingle. “What’s wrong?” her pencil is hanging limply from her fingers.

“Oh nothing, apart from the fact that one of my teachers is a psycho.”

“What happened.”

“Uh… he told me about Shen Gon Wu and that I have to protect them. He may also have created a fire dome that caused me to have a panic attack.”

“Um? Let’s start with the fire dome. Does your teacher make you feel unsafe?” Keiko’s eyebrows are set in a frown, her usually worried expression replaced by fierceness Kimiko rarely sees.

Kimiko stops fidgeting and ponders the question. No, Chase Young did not make her feel unsafe. He made her feel bored. Looking back the fire dome thingy was actually the coolest and most impulsive thing Chase Young had done for their lessons. but something about it had left her unsettled. It wasn’t the fire itself, Kimiko would be a very poor pyrokinetic if fire scared her. No… it was the feeling of being trapped by flames, of there being no escape, for her or the people with her. She tells Keiko all this.

“Well I guess no one likes being trapped. Especially someone like you.” Keiko smiles.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kimiko asks mock angrily.

“Oh you know.” Keiko nudges her lightly.

Kimiko sighs. “That’s probably it. I like my freedom.”

Speaking of which.

“I’m grounded and Chase Young is trying to foist responsibility on me.” She presses her hand into her head and falls back onto her bed, sighing melodramatically.

“Oh hush, I know you won’t _act_ grounded. Now tell me about the Shen Gon Wu.”

So Kimiko does, all the parts she managed to hear before she rabbited. She remembers Chase Young’s face alight with passion as he told her about the history of the Shen Gon Wu. Admiration clear in his voice as he spoke of Master Dashi, the creator of these artifacts who’d intended them to be used for humanity’s benefit.

How they came to be secreted away was the part she hadn’t heard as she was too busy running away.

“And I have help to guard them, because it seems there’s a Dragons-of-Fire shortage.”

Keiko looks unsure. “Do you want to transfer schools?”

“I don’t think I can. That’s the whole reason we were brought here, remember?” She clears her throat and tries to do the best imitation of Toshiro Tohomiko that she can. “We’ve been looking for the Dragon of Fire. We can help you use your powers and reach your full potential. I think this is what he meant by full potential.”

“Well we can try asking Tohomiko-san.”

“Let me think about it.” She sighs.

Kimiko gets up and heads to for the bathroom. She motions for Keiko to remain behind. Moments later she returns arms laden with beauty supplies. Keiko goes back to poring over her work while Kimiko pins and curls her sister’s hair. As she finishes Keiko’s elaborate updo Kimiko comes to a decision. She’d stick with it for now, while squirreling away money and supplies in case they really did need to head back to Tokyo.

“We’ll stay. For now.”

* * *

 

The next day she enters the class issues her apology for bolting and in turn accepts Chase’s apology for springing a fire dome on her. They’ve gone back to how things were before. He acts all boring and detached. She barely tries.

* * *

It’s as if someone set off a bomb at school, a bomb that splattered the halls with streamers, balloons, flowers and confetti, all in varying shades of red and purple. From one day to the next the school is transformed and Kimiko is not sure what to make of it. Even in Japan where teenagers had taken their holidays very seriously she’d never seen such _enthusiasm_.

The teachers that day seemed resigned to not do any teaching. Instead they remind the students of any homework that’s due soon and allow them to exchange gifts.

After her first class, Kimiko is intent on sneaking out of school. All is going well, she’s heading to a boys bathroom. What made this particular bathroom so important to her was its open window and that window’s proximity to several concealing bushes and trees. A good design if you wanted to get out of school or peek into the boys bathroom. A bad design for the same reasons.

Unfortunately she never even gets close to the door. Someone snatches her arm and drags her into the shadows.

She finds herself smooshed against Chase Young’s chest. The usually straight edge martial artist is fidgety and mussed. Chase looks as if he tumbled straight out of bed. His hair is wild and out of its usual ponytail allowing the dark green locks to cascade down his shoulders and back; the tips sticking up in several different directions. His clothes are wrinkled, there are beads of sweat on his forehead. Those golden eyes dart around the hallway. There’s a slight hint of desperation.

Kimiko gapes up at him. “Are you ok?”

“Mr. Tohomiko.” His voice is raspy and low. Kimiko’s hand grips his coat. She shifts her weight slightly onto the balls of her feet, ready to run.

“Yes?”

“There will be no class for us today, please keep practicing. Here—” He shoves something cold and metal into her hand. “—start reading this and I expect you to answer any questions I ask.”

Kimiko looks down, her fingers tracing over the symbols adorning the metal in her hands. Its another scroll, this one encased in silver. It smells old and the engravings are in a language she’s sure no one speaks anymore.

Her moment of admiration is cut short by a sudden flash of light.

They spring away from each other. Kimiko clutching the scroll to her chest and Chase looking angry.

They’re suddenly surrounded by a crowd of girls. One of them has their phone out.

She doesn’t really understand what anyone is saying, but she knows photographs and their power to distort someone’s image. With a yell, she kicks the phone out of the girl’s hands. In one fluid motion she catches it and together with the scroll stuffs it into her bag. She spins with the momentum; her free hand reaching out. She grabs Chase’s hand—the force of her movement still propelling her forward— and runs.

She makes a beeline for the bathroom. Kicking the door open, using the sink as a stepping stone, barreling through the tiny window. A small part in the back of her mind questioning if Chase will fit through.

She crashes into the tree branches. Her madly grasping hands hold nothing permanently, the branches slip away. The last of them slides through her fingers, there are no others to even attempt to grab. She closes her eyes waiting for the fall. Instead two strong hands seize her arm.

Breathing heavily she slumps gratefully into Chase Young, kind of glad he’s not in his armor, as her head is currently pillowed against his soft stomach.

His stomach which is not heaving up and down like her chest. He’s not even winded. Kimiko stifles a pout.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Kimiko pushes herself away and sits on a sturdy branch. She sighs.

“Did you have a plan beyond this?”

“Yes, we just have to wait for the bell to ring. That’ll clear the halls.”

“Oh.” Chase suddenly looks tense and out of place.

“So what was that about?” She asks as she takes out her pilfered phone.

“What was what?” She feels Chase get closer. He’s hovering over her shoulder again.

Kimiko scoots away, her fingers tapping on the phone looking for the photo.

“Why were you all… weird?”

She cries out triumphantly as she manages to find it. Promptly she deletes it.

“Before I found you I was running from…” he pauses.

“That mob?” she supplies helpfully.

“I was trying to think of a more refined word.” He relents. “but yes.”

Their sudden silence is interrupted when the phone rings. Kimiko flails comically and Chase glares. Knowing better than to answer, Kimiko holds the power button and it shuts down.

“I should probably return this.”

“Of course.”

Another bout of awkward silence. This time its cut short by the bell.

Kimiko eagerly climbs down the tree, jumps off the lowest branch and lands with a soft oof. Still crouched she scans the area, seeing no one else she takes off. Her dash for freedom barely lasts three steps. Chase has her by the scruff of her clothes.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh out?” She smiles.

He raises an eyebrow.

“The school is back that way.”

Kimiko looks back at the tall brick building. “And so is _that_ mob. Except instead of torches and pitchforks they have ribbons, phones and scissors.”

An almost invisible shiver passes through her usually unshakeable tutor. “Besides I’m not going to learn anything today now am I?”

She stares up at Chase her face set into her eyes as wide and watery as she can make them. She knows the effect her big blue eyes have on people.

“Please pretty please, let me go.”                                                                                                              

She feels his hold slacken as he deliberates.

Quick as lighting Kimiko slips out of her coat and heads for the wrought iron fence. “You can give that back another time!” She yells over her shoulder.

She expects him to try and stop her, she doesn’t expect him to follow her.

* * *

 

Crouching low to observe some puppies play in a window she bolts straight up when she hears a familiar voice say. “Your coat Mr. Tohomiko.”

“Thank you Mr. Young.” She bows. “it was starting to get a bit chilly.”

She slips on the coat, fluffing it to settle it well against her body.

“So how does it feel, Young?”

“How does _what_ feel?”

She grins. “Your first act of rebellion.”

Chase blinks. “I was unaware that chaperoning you was being rebellious.”

It’s her turn to blink. “Chaperone?”

“Yes I am responsible for you during the school day. Your legal guardian was quite displeased with me the last time you fled. She has promised several creative punishments should it happen again.”

Kimiko is still dumbfounded. Ms. Yamamoto? Concerned for _her_? “She has a funny way of showing affection.”

“I’m sure she does.”

Giving one last glance to the adorable pups in the store Kimiko starts walking in a random direction. Chase follows her. “So anything fun you’d like to do today, Mr. Ice Prince?”

“I’d like to return to the school.”

“I said fun.” She groans. “If it helps your conscience lets treat this like a field trip.”

“I would have had to fill out paperwork in advance.”

“I’m sure it’s easy enough to forge.” Chase raises an eyebrow at that. “Besides I’m sure no one would begrudge us a day off from school considering the circumstances.”

He pauses. After a long while he utters a soft noise of agreement.

Kimiko brightens up.

“So Mr. Tohomiko I’m deferring to your expertise, wherever shall we go that’s _fun_?”

Kimiko’s stomach growls.

“Ice cream sound good?”

The look Chase gives her reminds her too much of Keiko.

“There is a nearby restaurant where Master Fung and I usually hold meetings. It is acceptable.” He gestures towards the heart of the city.

“Well if you usually go there won’t they tell Master Fung that you’ve run out of school?” Nonetheless Kimiko follows.

The way he stiffens even more tells her enough. “We’ll get a private room.”

“Private room, business meetings. Are you sure it’s in my price range?”

“I’ll pay.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Ice Prince, you’re not the only one whose heir to a fortune.”

“I weep for the future of Tohomiko Electronics.”

“Funny I expected the opposite, aren’t we your competitors?”

“My company does not make _games_.”

“I think I’ve just found out what’s wrong with your company.”

“Do you even know what we do?”

"Yup you pillage the earth’s natural resources. If its wood, metal, stone it most likely came from your hoard. I may be pretty but I’m not stupid.”

Chase snorts inelegantly. “Pillage is a strong word, don’t you think?”

Kimiko nudges him with her shoulder. “Much better than” —She puts on her best stuffy British guy voice— “top quality raw materials with the assurance of ethical mining and harvesting practices.”

“So you’ve read our website but not yours?”

“Ooops.”

Their conversation stops as they arrive at the restaurant. Kimiko hovers in the background as Chase and the hostess converse in rapid Chinese. She manages to catch a word here or there.

They’re escorted to a closed off section. The table at the center is too large for just the two of them; already set with silverware, dishes, and pitchers of water with fruit floating in it. The room is dimly lit by a modern chandelier, no doubt set on its lowest light setting since her eyes have to adjust to the darkness. And most interesting of all is the dark red bamboo screen; each one of its stems carved with an intricate design. Overall it made an abstract picture of slowly evolving patterns.

There was no extra bamboo rolled up at the ends, in fact it fitted the windows perfectly. No doubt the restaurant had ordered them to be custom made. She wonders how long it had taken for the artisan to make it.

Lastly a beautiful oasis with water falling over frosted glass served as a divider.

“This is the smallest meeting room they had.” Chase looks sheepish.

“Its extravagant, but I think you’ll understand if I don’t sit halfway across the table.”

Chase’s smiles slightly, she smiles back. They both look away as they’re brought their menus.

Kimiko ends up ordering ‘whatever’s freshest’ in the best Chinese she can muster, allowing Chase to order her drink.

The cup set in front of her with a white flower in the middle is baffling, until someone pours hot water over it. The flower blossoms releasing a sweet aroma into the air and tinting the glass gold.

Someone adds honey and some red berries into her cup.

Kimiko stares dubiously at Chase as he delicately drinks down the strange tea. She sees him chew on the berries.

Tentatively she drinks. It has a bittersweet flavor. She finishes it all in one long gulp.

Chase is refilling his cup.

“Not bad but not my cup of tea.” She winces as she realizes what she has just said. Puns were inexcusable in any language.

Chase actually laughs.

* * *

 

Kiiko at least has good manners. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting from the unruly boy. It was a coin toss with him. Everything he did was unexpected and Chase found he really needed to stop being surprised.

Really he should have seen it coming that the boy ordered two desserts before asking if Chase also wanted two extra.

Over the sweet treats they’d argued good naturedly on how to spend the day. He’d squashed the small feeling of guilt that arose when he thought about the mound of paperwork waiting at home. His company wouldn’t come crashing down around his feet for one missed day.

“Mall?”

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Perhaps a film?”

“Remember when I said you’re no fun?”

“Films can be quite a thought provoking experience.”

“Still it’s a bit cliché and we’d have to find one we’d both like… and while thought provoking is good, action adventure romance is better.”

“…”

“Don’t give me that look. Ok, how about… um… ah! There’s a fair in town.”

“Now who is being cliché?”                                                    

Chase takes out his phone at Kiiko’s confused look he elaborates. “There are certain functions I always have an invitation to. Some years I’m able to attend others I send my apologies.”

“Hey good idea.” Kiiko takes out his phone. It’s very glittery.

“Wine tasting.” He lets the words slip before his brain has a chance to figure out what he’s saying.

“Ooooh! Excellent idea. I didn’t know you were such a rebel.”

“It’s a refined skill, little one, but unfortunately for you one you will not be able to enjoy practicing for two more years.”

The wounded look Kiiko sends him is not cute, Chase firmly mentally states. “B-But you’re not even 18!”

“I am seen as a highly refined individual who does not overindulge—” He stares pointedly at the boy’s two dessert bowls. “—in life’s pleasures.” Before Kiiko can retort he continues. “On a related topic perhaps we should find a place where we can have our missed lesson.”

“You have officially lost your rebel title. It’s now back to not-fun.” Kiiko scowls.

There’s a moment of silence that lasts an unnaturally long time.

Kiiko speaks up tentatively. “Maybe we should take a tour of each other’s companies?”

They share a grimace.

One of their phones ping. The newly delivered message is their saving grace.

* * *

 

“Ooooh! This one looks exciting!” Kiiko points towards block of text near the bottom of their programs.

“very well we shall attend interpretive dance history, but afterwards I insist we see the new developments in watz dance theory.”

“Fine, although who do they think they’re kidding, waltz hasn’t changed since the 18th century.” Chase finds his lips twitching.

* * *

 

Kiiko is hunched over, examining the old text and drawings detailing the steps of the dance. Chase waits patiently off to the side. Their tour group had long ago disappeared ahead of them. Kiiko has been insistent on trying out some of the dance moves. Chase had indulged the boy, allowing him to practice the moves while he stood off to the side and watched. Kiiko suddenly stands up straight visibly thrumming with energy.“Will you try one of these dances with me?”

“No.”  
Kiiko pouts. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t dance.”

“Martial arts is a kind of dance.”

“It is not.”

“It is too, you have instructions, steps and certain ways to move your body. The only difference is how often someone gets hurt and if its intentional or not.”

“They why are you so bad at martial arts and not dance?”

Kiiko looks thoughtfully at one of the looping videos. Its showing the gradual evolution of a particular form of dance with period appropriate clothing. “ I don’t know.”

Chase grits his teeth.

“Look I’m sorry I asked, let’s just catch up to the tour group.”

Behind them he can hear the bright clear sound of another tour guide. She stops and stares at the pair of them. The nametag on her green blouse says ‘Lei’.

Kiiko gains his bearing first and speaks up. “We’re sorry about the interruption. We were so engrossed in the displays we lost track of our tour group, may we join yours.”

Chase shoots Kiiko a grateful look. Kiiko simply grins back.

They join the group but Chase notices the way the atmosphere changes. He’s noticed when his father would walk into a room and over the years it happened to him too. They give him a wide berth and avoid looking at him. some even seem afraid.

There’s times when this is a very useful skill. Currently it’s disheartening. Kiiko is oblivious. Lei coughs and continues with her tour. In the next room over she stops.

Chase tunes her out and focuses instead on Kiiko who is devouring every word pouring from the guide’s mouth.

“Now would anyone like to try it with me? Don’t be shy.”

It doesn’t surprise him that Kiiko at once jumps front and center. No what shocks him is how Kiiko imitates Lei’s movements with more grace than the guide, even adding a little flair at the end. Those blue eyes alight with fire, every move flowing into the next.

“Very good, what’s your name?”

“Kiiko.”

“Kiiko, you did very well. The next dance actually requires a partner. I need two more volunteers.”

The boy’s blue eyes flicker to him. They hold each other’s gaze, probably for a far shorter time than it feels. In the end two new people step up. To Chase’s surprise both of them men. One of them is clearly eager to be around their tour guide. The other heads straight for Kiiko, coy smile on his admittedly handsome face. Even more surprising Kiiko accepts the offered hand.

Lei guides them through the first paces of the dance. The man paired with Kiiko is clearly a dancer. They move with such ease obviously reading imperceptible signs from the other as they don’t speak at all yet neither one moves out of step. Even Lei has stopped her attempts at showing the dance herself and is referring to both Kiiko and his partner, pointing out important moves and giving them complex sounding names.

Chase honestly cannot force himself to care about what Lei is saying. His eyes locked onto the guy’s hands, resting far too low on Kiiko’s hips. His head ducking down too close and breathing on Kiiko’s neck. They’re too close. They move too well.

“Would you like a challenge, Kiiko?” asks the man.

“Of course I would, Chi Cao.” Kiiko responds with a smile.

“I guess it’s not easy for me to hide.”

“No.” Kiiko’s smile gets wider.

Chi Cao, as he’s called leans over to Lei and whispers in her ear. The woman smiles and blushes before nodding. She produces a small handheld radio. Chi then continues his unsettling trend of whispering into people’s ears. Whatever he says has Kiiko invigorated.

It isn’t long before beautiful lilting music is playing and they’re dancing again. At first the dance isn’t too complex then it builds, gradually increasing in complexity before ending abruptly.

There’s cheers and applause and Chi still hasn’t let go of Kiiko. Kiiko who is a teenager and the man looks at least 30.

“Mr. Tohomiko.” His voice is even, sharp and cool; the one he uses in front of competitors. It does its job. The two of them break apart, Lei starts ushering everyone out. Chase glares hard at the man. Kiiko looks back and forth between them, confused. The man does not buckle under Chase’s glare in fact he returns it.

“I am your chaperone on this trip and this man is clearly taking advantage of this situation.”

“Huh?” Kiiko’s face is both dumbfounded and angry. In any other situation it’d be funny. Right now Chase’s stomach is roiling. He feels ill. Kiiko’s anger seems to have won out because the next second his arm is in an iron grip and Kiiko’s throwing a formal goodbye to the tall man behind them.

They don’t stop until they’re at an empty office. Kiiko shoves a chair under the door handle then whirls around to face him.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“You are a student Mr. Tohomiko, currently under my charge, and underage last I saw. The second you become of legal age then it is no longer my concern who you _interact_ with. That man was clearly taking advantage of you—”

“Spare me the bullshit Chase.” Kiiko’s voice is dangerously low. His eyes narrowed and his shoulders hunched. “You have no idea.”

“No idea of what?”

“That I’m already capable of looking after myself.”

Chase scoffs and is about to talk again before he’s interrupted by Kiiko’s harsh voice. “In fact I’m even capable of looking after my sister and her cat too! I wasn’t born with the _prestigious_ _privileged_ Tohomiko name attached to me. Unlike you, _Young_ , whose probably never had to worry about where your next meal is coming from, or if some stupid adult is going to take your only family away from you or if you’re going to sleep in a bed instead of the streets. I had to learn to survive long before I met you and wow, see I’m still here.”

Kiiko takes a deep breath, flicking out his phone. Chase’s own phone pings shaking him from his stupor. “There I sent you a link, read up on famous dancers and then go apologize to Chi Cao. I’m going home.”

“No Kiiko, wait.” He grips the boy’s sleeve. “I’m still responsible for you.” He wants to kick himself the second the words are out of his mouth. Kiiko growls in frustration.

“You can’t be in charge of who you can’t catch.”

Chase yanks his hand back from the boys arm, wincing at the burn. The boy takes off, Chase tries to keep up with him but this time Kiiko, vibrant and colorful, vanishes into the crowd.

His phone beeps again. Eagerly Chase turns it on and flicks through the messages. Kiiko’s last message is still there but the new one is from Chi Cao’s agency. Apparently his invitation to the winter ballets has been rescinded.

Resigned he calls his driver then forwards the agency’s message to his secretary asking her to smooth things over with Cao’s people. Wuya would kill him if he missed the ballet.

* * *

Kimiko arrives home still seething. She climbs up the side of the building, crawling into her room. Keiko barely looks up from her work. “Dyris asked me to give that to you.”

Kimiko glances over to her dresser. On it is a beautiful basket filled to the brim with chocolates, hair products, make up, fragrant shampoos and soaps. She gingerly opens the attached card, her stomach sinking to the floor, anger turning to disappointment.

Perfect end to a perfect day she thinks bitterly.

“I’ll give it back to her tomorrow, with my apologies.” Kimiko sighs as she enters the restroom and starts wiping off her makeup.

* * *

 

_A glass of decadently sweet wine hangs from his fingers. His eyes stare at the two young men on the screen. One of them, the bitch’s son, is chatting away avidly, punctuating his sentences with the occasional Japanese euphemism or an English word. The other is Young who looks like the stick up his ass is missing. It was strange seeing him in such a state. For all the media likes to proclaim him a genius, a modern legend, renowned martial artist, everything and more than his father ever was, to him Chase Young is and has only ever been a child._

_It’s laughable that at board meetings his advisors tremble before Qiang’s steely son. They cower and whimper at the whims of a_ baby _. Fearing that that miserable whelp will topple_ his _company. Oh those poor bastards were always good for a laugh. Then again it’s not like they know about his off the books revenue, or hidden stock being smuggled around the world. They fret while_ he _makes sure_ his _own future_ _is secure._

_They also don’t see Chase Young now. They don’t see proof that this so called titan can bleed, is mortal. He wonders if the two boys even_ know _. Probably not, he’s always been good a reading people. It became necessary when he chose this way of life. He knows all the important players. And he makes sure he knows them better than they know themselves. Right now he knows what Chase Young wants before the boy has even realized it!_

_He sips his wine, smiling. His eyes flicker back and forth between the two of them. Of course he would use this. Two birds, one stone and all that. He scraps his old plan without a second thought, the new one more to his liking. Still smiling he sets down his wine, picks up his silverware and digs into his meal. He motions for his lieutenants to switch off the screen and to inform him when Young and Tohomiko leave. For now he listens as his people relay information. Long held grudges and mysterious reappearing waifs notwithstanding he still has a criminal empire to maintain._

 


End file.
